


Young Hearts Intertwined

by goodboylupin (somebetterwords)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Desi Potter Family (Harry Potter), Desi Sirius Black, Established Relationship, First War with Voldemort, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop, Summer, Weddings, Welsh Remus Lupin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25109308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somebetterwords/pseuds/goodboylupin
Summary: There’s a special kind of magic to a wartime wedding.
Relationships: Euphemia Potter/Fleamont Potter, Hope Lupin/Lyall Lupin, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 29
Kudos: 223
Collections: RS Fix It Fest 2020





	Young Hearts Intertwined

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'ed by the incomparable [kattlupin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kattlupin/pseuds/Kattlupin). Thank you for being so kind, gentle, encouraging, and always eager to help.

In his readings to prepare for the task of being James Potter’s best man, Sirius had learned that there was no such thing as a perfect wedding. Something would invariably go wrong, and it was the responsibility of the bridesmaids and groomsmen (but never the bride and groom themselves) to smooth things over as best they could and enjoy the beauty of the day.

Bullshit. James and Lily had a perfect wedding. The flower arrangements were freshly cut and flawless; the sun shone down on them all so they looked beautifully haloed in the photos; the gown fit Lily like a glove and her great-grandmother’s fragile veil looked like it had been tatted yesterday, Peter didn’t get an untimely stain on his dress robes (“ _ dinner jacket,” _ Remus’s voice rang in his mind with a stern reminder); the officiant was engaging and heartfelt and didn’t drone on; Sirius didn’t lose the rings; the food arrived on time, hot and delicious; James wasn’t overzealous smashing the first piece of wedding cake into Lily’s face; there were no uninvited guests or Johnny-come-latelys; the statute of secrecy had not yet been broken; nobody started the day hungover or ended it at an unseemly level of drunkenness.

Merlin and the Fates had worked hand in hand to give them all this one day of heaven in the midst of hell. If anyone deserved it, it was James and Lily.

Because there were no fires for Sirius to put out, he made quick work of his duties — dancing with the little girls who balanced themselves on his shoes was delightful, dancing with the elderly ladies who tried to pinch his bum significantly less so — and could finally take his favourite partner out for a spin.

There were five or so places he could think to find Remus: causing some lighthearted shenanigans with Peter and the girls, wrangling the sprogs who darted between tables stealing the chocolates out of party favour bags, having lively academic discussions with James’s extended family who’d come in from all over the globe, enjoying a second helping of dinner, or perhaps entertaining the senior citizens because Moony was a bit of an old man himself.

It turned out to be the fourth option, more or less. Remus sat alone at the bar with a plate of half-melted pistachio kulfi and a glass of champagne. He had his back to the counter and stared out onto the wide field of the party. His face was not  _ sad _ , necessarily, but pensive, in a wistful sort of way. Contemplative.

Sirius sidled up to stand by Remus’s barstool, wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and rested his chin on a narrow shoulder pillowed by the pad of his midnight blue dinner jacket. “Knut for your thoughts?” He murmured.

Remus hummed in acknowledgment and let his head loll to the side until his temple pressed against the top of Sirius’s head. “Don’t lowball me, Black. They’re worth at least a sickle.”

“I’ll pay you with a dance,” Sirius offered. He stepped back and held out a beckoning hand.

Remus dropped down off the stool with a hop and quickly accepted the extended hand. Their fingers twisted together like vines and they made their way to the centre of the dance floor, a massive square of gleaming parquet in the middle of lush green lawn.

At an all wizards wedding, it wouldn’t have made much of a difference, but for Lily, Sirius was grateful that the weather had been perfect. They’d not had to bother with a tent to explain away Umbrella Charms and instead allowed the guests to enjoy a storybook English summer: a gentle wind that made the grass dance under their feet, puffy white clouds that carried not one drop of rain, and azure skies that gracefully gave way to the pinks and purples of milky twilight.

Sirius had long been of the opinion that Remus looked especially beautiful in the dusk, and that certainly held true today. The fairy lights — strung up just high enough that the Muggles couldn’t make out the outlines of actual fairies — blinked soft white light above him, and the colours of the dimming sky left him looking downright ethereal, porcelain skin reflecting the last vestiges of sunset like watercolours and hair of burnished gold. Love shone out of his eyes, darkened from their usual cobalt to glimmer like sapphires in the evening. The band finished the mid tempo song they’d been playing and transitioned to a Muggle ballad Sirius didn’t quite recognize. Remus forewent the traditional starting position and wrapped both his arms around Sirius’s shoulders, pressing so close you couldn’t slide a piece of parchment between their chests — not that Sirius was complaining. He hugged him even closer and tilted his head to skim his lips along the shell of Moony’s ear, the only skin he could reach. They made a half-hearted attempt at shuffling in a side step but for the most part simply swayed together to the music and drank in each other’s presence.

“What are you thinking about, Moony?” Sirius asked again.

“I was thinking that there’s a special kind of magic to a wartime wedding,” Remus answered simply. “It’s something deeper than they could ever teach at Hogwarts.”

“One day of heaven in the midst of hell,” Sirius agreed, giving voice to earlier thought. 

“Yes.”

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?” Sirius coaxed.

“You’re going to think I’m being terribly gloomy,” Remus warned.

“I knew what I was getting into when I got together with you.”

Remus let out a quiet chuckle but the humour was short-lived. He sighed quietly and tightened his hold. “We might never be this happy again.”

“ _ Baby, _ ” Sirius breathed, not knowing what he could possibly say to that.

“You know it’s true, Padfoot,” he insisted, not unkindly. “This war isn’t ending any time soon. And it’s not getting any better, not for our side, at least. Individually, yes, I believe there are happy days for you yet to come. But as a collective? The next wedding comes around, I don’t think every person in this room will still be alive to see it. There’s no guarantee I’ll ever see every person I love all in one place like this again.”

Sirius didn’t miss the fact that Remus made no mention of his own future happiness and, not for the first time, wondered what the hell the Order had him doing.

Would  _ Remus _ be alive for the next wedding?

“Marry me.”

Remus came to a stop, pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes.

Though Sirius had not meant to say the words aloud, he found that he very much meant them. He tried to convey the surety and ferocity of his love through his face.

Moony understood, as Moony always did, and nodded decisively. “All right,” he said. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Sirius’s mouth and started swaying again as if that was all there was to it.

Maybe it was, Sirius thought as he steered them into a spin. It had, after all, been something of a foregone conclusion in his mind since he was fourteen years old that  _ one day, _ in a gauzy, far-off future, Remus John Lupin would be his husband — and in his soul for longer still, he suspected. Sirius didn’t need any mental preparation, any time to dither or anguish over the details. All Remus had done was remind him that they weren’t invincible, and make him consider why he was waiting for some nebulous someday that might never come to ask the question outright when today was just as good.

A feeling of warmth blanketed him, and he wondered why the hell he hadn’t done this earlier. They’d been engaged for two minutes, hadn’t bought rings or told anyone, and already Sirius felt tethered in a way he’d never experienced before. He wondered what it would be like when they were married.

He didn’t want to wait to find out.

“Let’s get married right now.”

“What?”

Abruptly, the band switched to the opening notes of a lively waltz and Sirius grinned broadly. For all that he enjoyed the Muggle tunes and the freedom to move as you liked to them, there was something to be said for the familiarity and universal standards of wizard ballroom music. His childhood was not one brimming with happy memories, but one of the few things he would always remember fondly was the dancing. Sirius held his left hand out to the side and settled his right at the nip of Remus’s waist. He waggled his eyebrows expectantly.

Remus exhaled noisily and rolled his eyes, but pressed their palms together and let Sirius glide him in circles around the dance floor, much more crowded now that the band was playing a classic most any witch or wizard learned how to dance by age seventeen. “I know I must have misheard you,” Remus drawled, skilled enough at both dancing and sarcasm that neither his steps nor his voice wavered. “Because I know you didn’t suggest that we hijack our best friend’s wedding.”

Sirius smiled fondly and lifted Remus in time with the rest of the couples, then dropped him back to his feet and switched the extended arm. “We’d ask permission first, but do you really think James and Lily would say no? They’re generous to a fault!”

“And as their closest friends, we of all people shouldn’t abuse their generosity! And this is a beautiful wedding, of course—”

“A  _ perfect _ wedding.”

“A perfect wedding,” Remus amended. “But it’s also tailor fit to James and Lily. We’re in Muggle outfits they picked, in the  _ English _ countryside, and the cake wasn’t even chocolate! These are  _ their _ guests—”

At that, Sirius barked out a laugh. “If we got married tomorrow, there’s not a single person we’d invite who isn’t already here! The Venn diagram of people we know and people the new Mr. and Mrs. Potter know is a circle inside of a slightly larger circle.”

“We know other people,” Remus said feebly, mouth pulling down into a little moue.

“We can’t exactly invite Mrs. Chowdhury from the curry place to a gay wizards wedding,” Sirius teased. On the next arm change, he snuck a quick peck to Remus’s jutted bottom lip, kissing away the pout. “A wedding is, at its core, two hearts making a vow, and an audience to witness them. Everything else is window dressing. We have everything we need right here.”

Remus heaved a great sigh. “You can’t just say something so romantic and expect me to be reasonable.”

“My dastardly plan all along,” Sirius assured.

“Absolutely wicked, my future husband is,” Remus said. He smiled. “The very near future.”

The song carried on, and though perhaps it would have been smarter to try to find James and Lily wherever they were on the dance floor, to catch their attention and send a nod their way to let them know he needed a minute of their time, Sirius couldn’t take his eyes off Remus for even a moment.

With a final flourish, the waltz was over and Sirius let go just long enough to offer the band a polite round of applause — back straight, palms at chest level, head turned to face the musicians but body still oriented to his partner, just as Walburga taught him.

“C’mon,” Remus murmured, fingers curling around his wrist and tugging gently. He led them to the centre of the parquet where James and Lily stood under a disco ball that miraculously managed not to look incongruous. “If we may have the next dance, Mr. and Mrs. Potter?” He asked, tapping Lily on the shoulder.

“You may, Messrs. Lupin and Black,” Lily agreed, grinning at the both of them.

“Might soon be just Black,” Remus commented blithely.

“Come again?” James asked with a bemused smile.

Remus just grinned and lifted Lily’s hand straight over her head, and with a giggle she took the cue for what it was, letting him twirl the both of them away without an answer.

James tilted his head in confusion at Sirius, an eyebrow raised.

“Remus wants to take my name,” Sirius swooned, staring after the pair as they spoke eagerly to one another. “I thought we might hyphenate, but Remus Black rolls rather beautifully off the tongue, don’t you think?”

James gasped as understanding dawned on him. “You guys got engaged?”

“We did!”

“Merlin almighty!” James grabbed his shoulders and shook them, hopping up and down in excitement. “You’re getting married! Tell me  _ everything _ ,” he demanded, dragging Sirius off the floor and to a nearby empty table. “You didn’t even tell me you planned on asking! Or did Remus propose? I can’t imagine Remus going ring shopping without me. Have you thought about dates? If you want an indoor venue we have to book quick!”

“It was a spur of the moment thing. We got to talking about the state of things and I had… I had a quiet epiphany that I’ve been ready to marry Remus for ages now,” Sirius replied. “And we have thought about dates. Remus and I were actually thinking, if you and Lily gave us your blessing to do so, that we’d like to get married tonight.”

“What, like right now?”

“Right here and now. It really is the perfect wedding, Prongs.”

Quite suddenly, James cuffed Sirius upside the head. “If you had only had this epiphany a  _ week _ ago, we could have had a proper double wedding, you berk!”

“Aye, but then how could you be my best man if we were co-grooms?”

James answered with a one-armed hug. “I’m so happy for you, Padfoot,” he whispered, pushing their temples together. “Of course you have my blessing!”

“Love you, brother.”

“Love you too.” James pulled away and gave his back a heavy, open-handed thump. “Now, we’ve things to do, people to see. I’ll grab Peter and we’ll get  _ everything _ arranged for you, and make sure no one you care about leaves. You and Moony ought to go tell the parents.”

They stood and parted, Sirius making his way back to his fiancé — his  _ fiancé! _

“Hey, stranger,” Remus greeted, meeting him in the middle and immediately getting up on his tiptoes to kiss the tip of his nose. “So Lily’s on board. She’s quite pleased we’ll now be able to remind each other that our anniversary’s coming up.”

(It was something of a running joke in their friend group that James was a grand romantic to the point of neuroses, celebrating every anniversary of minutiae in his relationship with Lily, hoarding every movie ticket and dinner bill; whereas Lily was lucky to remember her own birthday and unlikely to so much as buy herself a cupcake if she did, and constantly stretching to match even a fraction of the love and sentimentality James so effortlessly showered her in.)

“I told you they would be,” Sirius murmured. “James and Peter have dove headfirst into their best man duties. We just have to tell your mum and dad and Mr. and Mrs. Potter.”

Remus groaned, hiding his face in the crook of Sirius’s neck. “That’s going to be a great conversation. ‘Hey, Mrs. Potter, may I have your blessing to marry your adoptive son? Great! Grab a fucking seat because we’re on in five.’”

Sirius snorted in agreement. “They’ll be delighted at how  _ modern _ the whole idea is. You know how Effie and Monty love trying new things. I’m the one who should be worried. Your dad hates me enough that he might well just tell me to bugger off.”

“He doesn’t  _ hate _ you,” Remus stressed, as he always did. “He doesn’t love you, but he doesn’t hate you.”

They spotted both their parents seated together, and it was the tiniest of conveniences, but it still felt a bit like perhaps the universe was telling Sirius that he was doing the right thing, following his impulse like this.

“Mum, dad,” Sirius announced his presence. He pulled out two chairs and dropped into one, draping his arm over the back of the other and curling it around his fiancé’s shoulders as soon as Remus took his own seat.

“Mam, Tad,” Remus greeted his own parents with a nod.

Mr. Lupin squinted at them, leaned back in his chair, and with a raised brow, demanded, “What are you rascals up to?”

“Lyall!” Mrs. Lupin smacked Mr. Lupin’s chest with the back of her hand and immediately soothed the sting by gently rubbing over the spot with her knuckles. (It was a move with which Sirius was intimately familiar, having been on the receiving end more times than he could count. His heart warmed at the prospect that he and Remus had been unconsciously emulating Remus’s parents all these years.)

“You know as well as I do, they’re up to  _ something _ !” Mr. Lupin insisted. He turned to Fleamont. “Back me up here, Monty.”

“Well, Sirius  _ does _ tend to call us Mum and Dad when he wants something,” Fleamont acquiesced.

“But also when he’s emotional,” Euphemia chimed in.

“What does he have to be emotional about?”

Sirius spluttered. “We’re at James’s  _ wedding _ , Dad!”

“We’re at James’s  _ reception _ , darling,” Euphemia said. “That’s a bit different.”

“Speaking of weddings and receptions—” Remus cut in. His calm tone belied the nervousness Sirius could feel in the set of his shoulders; in the hand clutching desperately at his knee, fingernails digging in to form tiny crescents even with the barrier of wool trousers. “Sirius proposed to me earlier tonight. And of course I said yes.”

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then Hope Lupin let out an ear-splitting shriek of joy and jumped out of her chair so suddenly it fell back from the movement. She bounded around the table and bent down at the waist to envelop the both of them in a hug. “My baby boy is getting married!”

“So you approve?” Sirius asked half-jokingly.

“Oh, Sirius, honey,” Hope cooed. “If I didn’t like you, you would’ve  _ known it _ by now.”

Sirius chanced a glance at Mr. Lupin. Much in the same way he thought Hope would’ve, Remus’s father had made it clear that he disliked Sirius, so much so that Remus never even denied it. He had never been blatantly disrespectful, never said anything insulting, never sneered or glowered, but there had always been a coldness towards Sirius that James and Peter never felt, since long before he and Remus began dating.

Quietly but ardently, Mr. Lupin spoke to Remus in a rapid string of Welsh that Sirius could never even hope to decipher. Hope tensed beside him, and Remus let out a frustrated huff.

“Wyt ti o ddifri?” Remus asked. In all the years he’d known and loved Moony, he’d only managed to pick up a few common Welsh words and phrases, the vocabulary and sentence structure just too different from familiar Romantic and Indo-Aryan languages he grew up with for him to ever make heads or tails of it. This was one of those few:  _ Are you serious? _ Remus used it often and had taught it to Peter and James to ask the question and escape the inevitable, instinctual response Sirius always gave if the words were spoken within earshot.

Mr. Lupin leaned forward across the table, face pleading, and spoke again.

Remus scoffed. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively and spit something out that Sirius knew without a doubt, going off body language alone, must have been an instant argument winner.

He stared at Mr. Lupin, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Euphemia and Fleamont did the same, as enthralled by the foreign-language verbal tennis match as he was.

“Mae'n gwybod?” Mr. Lupin whispered.

Remus spoke again, tone no longer quite so cutting. Gradually, his glare dissipated and disappeared entirely when he uncrossed his arms and took Sirius’s hand to cradle between both of his own. Moony ran a thumb over Sirius’s knuckles and paused to give him a loving glance before returning his gaze to his father and continuing what surely would have been a very moving speech if only Sirius could understand a fucking word of it.

Just as his wife had, Mr. Lupin sprung out of his chair so forcefully it tipped over. He too strode around the circumference of the table, but where Remus’s mother had been content to hug the both of them as they sat, Remus’s father grasped Sirius’s arms just above the elbows and urged him to his feet.

Mr. Lupin planted a hand on each of Sirius’s shoulders, and though Sirius towered over Remus’s father much the same as he towered over Remus himself, this was the first time Mr. Lupin looking him in the eye did not make him feel small.

“Forgive me, Sirius,” Mr. Lupin implored, voice catching around unshed tears. “For many years I have been judging you unfairly. I distrusted you with my son’s heart. I did not have the measure of you at all, young man.”

Sirius turned to Remus for guidance, and his fiancé’s eyes glistened with unshed tears of his own. He nodded eagerly at Sirius, a hopeful smile tugging at his lips.

Well, that was all he really needed to know.

“Of course, Mr. Lupin,” Sirius agreed, patting the older man’s arms as best he could without jostling Mr. Lupin’s hands off his shoulders. “All’s forgiven.”

“ _ Lyall _ ,” Mr. Lupin said. “You should call me Lyall. We’re going to be family soon, after all.”

Remus rushed forward to wrap his arms around his father’s sides, and Lyall pulled him into a bear hug. “You’ve got a good one, Bachgen. You chose very well for yourself.”

“They both did,” Hope averred, throwing her arms around both of them. 

“Oh, how beautiful!” Euphemia trilled, dabbing at her eyes with a conjured, monogrammed handkerchief. “You know, it’s not really a proper wedding without a little family drama.”

She uprighted Lyall and Hope’s chairs with a flick of her wrist, gold bangled clinking together. In one sinuous movement, she and Fleamont rose from their own chairs, the Lupins finally parted from their group hug so embraces could be exchanged all around.

“Lads!” Sirius looked up to see Peter waddling over towards them, arms held out in front of him like a muggle zombie, encumbered by great swathes of fabric in various shades of shimmery metal and jewel tones piled across his shoulders and arms. “We figured you didn’t want to be wearing matching Muggle dress robes so we went hunting for some dress robes fancy enough for grooms that looked like they’d fit you — oh, and congratulations, you’re a wonderful couple, et cetera, et cetera.”

He held out his left arm for Remus, who took the load off him, knees seeming to buckle slightly from the weight of heavy silk and brocade.

“I don’t understand,” Fleamont said. “Sirius already owns plenty of other dress robes, even if we weren’t to buy new ones for him and Remus both. It’s not like the boys are getting married right here and now…”

Peter bared his teeth in a pasted on smile that was just on the borderline of being called a grimace. The Marauders did not practice legilimency on one another per se, but they certainly were well-versed in speaking to another without words.

_ You didn’t mention  _ **_that_ ** _ part of the proposal to them? _ Peter’s eyes flashed.

_ We didn’t have time! We got distracted!  _ Sirius exclaimed with raised brows.  _ Blame Remus. _ He tilted his chin at his fiancé.

_ Yeah, well, I’m not apologizing for it. _ Remus shrugged, unrepentant.

“Boys?”

“We actually were planning to get married right here and now,” Sirius informed them with an awkward chuckle.

“Remus, honey bunny, why not take some time to savour being engaged?” Hope asked, cupping his arm. “There’s no rush.”

“There actually  _ is _ a bit of a rush, Mam. I know I don’t really tell you the worst of it, but this war…”

“It  _ would _ be rather convenient, wouldn’t it?” Fleamont mused.

“You don’t plan a wedding around convenience!” Euphemia protested.

“Of course you do! We wanted to get married in May but we pushed it to July so the school year would be over for your cousins, didn’t we?”

“Oh, you just want them to get married now so you don’t have to put your mojari on again in a month.”

“I want them to get married now to save  _ everyone _ the trouble of putting on their dress shoes again in a month.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Mr. Potter,” Wormtail simpered. “Mine pinch my toes quite terribly.”

“Thank you, Peter.”

“I wouldn’t mind getting married bare-foot. Out in the grass, under the moonlight. It would be rather romantic, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, that would be lovely, Remus!” Euphemia sighed. She extricated a robe from the pile still draped across Peter’s shoulder. It was a remarkably understated number by Euphemia’s standards, in a more western style than Potters tended to favour for their formalwear: a floor-length, creamy raw silk that still gleamed with every movement like pearl dust was woven into its strands, long sleeves that cinched at the wrists with just enough space to stow a wand, and an open mandarin collar with three rows of buttons at the chest; the only adornment was the gold-threaded embroidery of opal and moonstone at the cuffs and neckline. “We bought these for James to wear to the Minister’s ball in… Seventy-seven, I believe it was, but then he hit that last big growth spurt before he ever got to wear them and had to borrow robes from his father. I think you’d look downright superlunary in it.”

“Oh, it’s  _ beautiful _ , Effie!” Hope gasped. “And you get something borrowed and new in one go. You have to wear this, Remus!”

“Are we even sure James’s robes from when he was a teenager will fit me?” Remus asked skeptically.

Sirius brought the heel of his hand to his mouth in order to muffle a titter. Hope and Euphemia made no such courtesy and openly laughed. “Remus, let’s be honest with ourselves here. You’re rather slight.”

“So Mrs. Lupin is on board!” Peter pointed out with good cheer.

“Oh, I suppose I am. It really is such a beautiful set of dress robes, Effie.”

“I’m quite glad they’ll get an opportunity to be worn. I thought I’d have to wait until James had a son for a chance to take them out again.”

“Now, for Sirius…” Euphemia pulled out another robe from Peter’s pile, this one much more in line with her sensibilities: white so pure and beaming it might hurt to look at too long, covered hem to hem in silver zardosi and beads, the sleeves puffed out at the elbows and ended halfway down the forearm in a thick cuff, it stopped just past the hip and came with a pair of peshwari trousers in the same blinding white. “My great-grandfather wore this when he married my great-grandmother. This won’t count for your borrowed, though, love. It’ll be yours.”

Sirius breathed hard and blinked away the tears that started to gather in his eyes. “I’d be proud to wear it, Mum.”

“And I’ll be proud to see you in it,” she answered, patting his cheek.

“Great!” Peter whooped. “Now you guys can carry the rest of these back and get changed!”

“You’re a wizard, Peter,” Remus reminded him gently. He shifted the weight of the robes he still carried onto one arm and with the newly freed one pulled out his wand. With a swish and flick he levitated both piles. “But yes, let’s do go back in the house and get changed.”

“You and James have everything covered?” Sirius checked as he took both sets of robes from Euphemia. “The Priestess can perform another marriage? Lily’s awful sister left?”

“We’ve got everything handled. This isn’t our first time planning a wedding,” Peter assured, winking at him. “You go change and relax until we’ve collected you.

Sirius barked out a laugh and slapped Peter on the back. “Good one, Wormy!”

Remus held out an expectant hand for him and Sirius intertwined their fingers. “Our last time holding hands as a betrothed couple,” Sirius noted as they strolled down the lawns and towards the Potter manor house.

“Also our first time holding hands as a betrothed couple.”

“Damn, we’re going to get married before we even have engagement sex. Maybe we  _ should _ hold off!”

Remus paused in his steps, turned around to face him. “We could if you wanted to, have that long engagement Mam mentioned.”

“Moony, baby, I’m just joking!” Sirius brought the hand he was already holding up to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it. “Unless  _ you _ want to? I know I might have… somewhat sprung this on you, but you didn’t say okay just to humour me, did you?”

“ _ No _ !” Remus quickly insisted. “I said yes because I love you. And I would marry you anytime and anyplace, and be just as happy — as  _ thrilled _ — no matter where or when or how we did it, as long as I get to be yours.”

“Good. Then we’re on the same page.”

“Good.” Remus pressed in closer, leaned up to whisper in Sirius’s ear, “I could give you a hand job so we can cross engaged sex off the bucket list, if you want.”

Sirius groaned. “I always want.”

With a giddy smile, Remus pulled them both past the open French doors of the manor house and into the great room.

“Little Master Sirius!”

Sirius and Remus stopped short at the giddy greeting of the Potter’s elderly head house elf, Taddy. She stood at the foot of the spiralling staircase, wringing her hands excitedly.

“Taddy was  _ most _ happy when Little Master James told Taddy that Little Master Sirius will be finally marrying new Little Master Remus. Taddy and the other house elves have been worrying that Little Master Sirius was taking  _ much _ too long to ask!”

Remus snorted and knocked their shoulders together. “Better late than never, right, Taddy?”

“Very right, Little Master Remus,” She squeaked, rocking forward and backward on the balls of her feet. “Little Master Sirius is very lucky to be marrying such a sensible, smart young man and Taddy is wishing to congratulate both the Little Masters on their impending nuptials on behalf of the household.”

“Thank you so much, Taddy,” Sirius answered. “That means the world to us.”

“And Taddy has drawn a bath in Little Master Sirius’s bathroom and another in the guest room for new Little Master Remus to prepare for their impending nuptials.”

“Oh, that was very kind of you, Taddy,” Remus said. “But Sirius and I can share.”

“No,” Taddy denied with a happy chirp. “Little Master James  _ ordered _ Taddy to be separating the two Little Masters for good luck!”

And before they could protest or order otherwise, Taddy skipped forward and took Remus by the hand, apparating them away with the quiet pop of house elf magic.

Sirius blinked.

“Fucking cockblock,” he muttered to the empty room.

Sirius trudged up the staircase alone and went down the hall to his room in the East wing on the second floor.

“Little Master Sirius!” Taddy’s daughter and second in command, Torba —  _ Do house elves have nepotism? _ An idle corner of Sirius’s mind wondered — stood by the balcony door and practically vibrated with enthusiasm. “Torba is to be helping with anything the Little Master needs as he prepares for his impending nuptials!”

“Can you sneak me over to Remus’s room?”

“No,” she denied with the exact same happy chirp as her mother. “Little Master James  _ ordered _ Torba to be keeping the two Little Masters separated for good luck!”

“Of course he did.” Sirius acknowledged flatly.

Torba’s ears flattened back against her head at the mild, tacit displeasure, and Sirius was struck with guilt. “Your mum mentioned something about a bath?”

“Oh, yes!” Torba nodded eagerly. “Torba has been adding clove and cardamom and cedar but  _ not _ cinnamon, just like Little Master Sirius likes best!”

“Well, that sounds like a spot of bliss, Torba! Thank you!” Sirius handed her the dress robes and started walking backwards into his ensuite bathroom. “The white set is for me and the other is for Remus, if you could air them out and send his to his guest room, that would be  _ very _ helpful.”

“Torba can be doing that!” She beamed.

Sirius smiled back politely and closed the bathroom door. He toed off his shoes, then doffed his jacket, his waistcoat, his tie, his shirt, his trousers, pants and socks in one great wrinkled heap on the floor, carelessly kicking it in the vague direction of the laundry hamper. He never would have done it at home, because Remus  _ hated _ people taking poor care of their clothes, but Sirius highly doubted he’d ever have occasion to wear such formal Muggle dress robes again.

Sirius stepped into the familiar clawfoot tub, charmed with a variation of an invisible extension that allowed it to accommodate even a man of Sirius’s large frame and let him stretch his legs, but didn’t turn the tub into a bottomless well that could never be filled all the way up. The temperature was perfect, because Taddy and Torba were damned excellent at creature comforts, and Sirius let his head drop back against the rolled up towel meant to serve as a neck pillow. Tendrils of perfumed steam rose up to his nose, and he drifted off.

—

Sirius awoke to someone repeatedly flicking his forehead.

“Wake up, bitch” James ordered. “It’s time for your wedding.”

Clumsily, Sirius slapped his hand away. “How long was I out?” He slurred.

“Not long, maybe fifteen minutes. You’ve missed your window to manscape, though.” James poked him hard in the chest.

Sirius grunted and slapped his hand again, hard enough the sound resounded through the bathroom. “Why the  _ fuck _ would I manscape?”

“To look nice for your new spouse?”

“ _ My _ new spouse has seen me naked before today, Prongs.”

“Shut up,” James demanded with a shove. His warm brown complexion was dark enough to mask all but the deepest of blushes, and one such blush rose to his cheeks. “Lily’s seen me naked before! Just not  _ that _ naked!”

“Do we need to have a pep talk again?” Sirius asked, only half-joking.

“Nah,” James assured him. “I’m okay.”

“She’s gonna love you just as much when your body hair grows back, ya know. Maybe even more, if she’s like Remus!”

“Thank you, Padfoot, for that information I definitely needed to know about two of my best friends.”

Sirius smiled beatifically and rose to his feet, quickly winding a towel around his waist. He stepped onto the charmed bathmat and wiggled his toes as it dried his feet. Padding over to the bathroom mirror, he ran a hand over his jawline. “Do you reckon Remus would want me to shave again or should I keep the five o’clock shadow?”

“Hang on a sec.” James stepped out of the bathroom and onto the balcony. “ _ PETER _ !” he bellowed at what someone who did not know James Potter as well as Sirius Black did might have called the top of his lungs.

It took a second or two for Peter’s voice to carry from whichever window he sat at. “ _ WHAT _ ?”

“ _ DOES MOONY WANT PADFOOT TO SHAVE _ ?”

“ _ HANG ON! _ ” Sirius imagined Peter turned to relay the question, though he very much doubted Remus didn’t hear it himself.

“ _ KEEP THE STUBBLE _ !” Peter called down.

“ _ OKAY, THANKS _ !” James shouted back. He returned to the bedroom and dropped down on the hope chest at the foot of Sirius’s bed. “He says he wants you to keep the stubble.”

“Thanks, Prongsie.”

“Anytime, Pads.” James reached into the inside pocket of his dinner jacket — Sirius noticed he’d swapped out the white bowtie he’d been wearing as groom for one of the ties his groomsmen had worn — and tossed him a drawstring velvet pouch.

Reflexively, Sirius caught the pouch in an outstretched hand. He opened the pouch to find a single earring, a thin silver hoop with a tiny dangling crescent moon.

“Something borrowed and new,” James explained. “Lily got it as part of a wedding present. The other little hoop has a star on it so Moony’s gonna wear that one.”

“Thanks, mate.” Sirius took out the simple stud in the centre of his left lobe and replaced it with the new hoop, dropping the stud onto the tray on his dressing table. “Wait, hold on — you guys  _ already _ opened presents?”

“Only one each!” James defended himself. “Like how you’re allowed to open one present before bed on Christmas Eve, just as a little teaser.”

“That is not in any way a thing for wedding presents,” Sirius replied.

“How would you know?” James stuck his tongue out at him. “You’re not getting any wedding presents!”

“Somehow, I think Remus and I will survive without an ugly vase from such-and-such’s sister in law.”

James burst out in laughter. “Petunia got us a vase! Oh, Merlin, Padfoot, it’s hideous!”

“I didn’t get an O in Divination for nothing!” Sirius chuckled as he pulled on a pair of boxers and dried himself off. “My Third Eye is seeing things clearly tonight.”

“You got an O in Divination by ‘predicting’ stories out of the Canterbury Tales!”

“I have the Sight!”

“See if you can predict when I give you a wedgie tonight.”

Sirius held his hand in front of his forehead, palm out, and opened and closed a fist in an emulation of a Third Eye blinking.

James returned the gesture and they burst out laughing once again.

Sirius got dressed without incident — his robe was so stiff and heavy James had to keep it floating above Sirius’s head and let it drop slowly while Sirius held his arms up but that wasn’t an  _ incident _ — and was applying a thin line of kohl to his waterline when someone knocked twice on the door before opening it a crack and sticking their head in.

“Almost ready, boys?” Fleamont asked.

“Yeah, Dad!” James held up a length of white satin ribbon. “We were just about to do Padfoot’s hair and then we’ll be ready to head down.”

Fleamont’s eyes widened with alarm. “What do you mean  _ we _ ?”

“I mean I’m going to help Padfoot do his hair?”

Fleamont opened the door the rest of the way and came bustling inside. “You’ll do nothing of the sort, young man!”

“Aww, but  _ Dad _ —”

“No buts!” Fleamont lifted his mahogany walking stick and tapped it smartly against James’s rear. “Hands up and step back right this instant.”

James pouted but did as he was told, handing his father the ribbon and crossing his arms over his chest. “I wouldn’t have mucked up  _ that _ badly.”

“I know your hair always ends up exactly how you intended it, Jim,” his father replied. “The problem is that your intentions are… unconventional, to say the least.”

“All right,” James huffed a sigh of defeat and turned for the door. “I’m gonna go check on Moony.”

“Honestly, son,” Fleamont scolded as he reached for a bottle of  _ Sleekeazy’s Va-Va-Vonderful Voluminizer _ potion and began teasing more body at the crown of Sirius’s head. “What were you thinking?”

“I was going to let him fool around a bit and fix it myself,” Sirius answered with a small shrug.

“Utterly daft,” Fleamont muttered to himself. “And what would you do if he left it too far-gone for you to fix?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Sirius grinned at Fleamont’s reflection in the mirror. “I’d call my dad to invent a new potion for me.”

Fleamont chuckled and wrapped an arm across Sirius’s chest. “I rather like this turn of events better.”

Sirius simply reached up to squeeze Fleamont’s arm with both hands.

“Now,” Fleamont cleared his throat awkwardly and went back to doing Sirius’s hair, staring quite fixedly down at his scalp. “The advice I gave James this morning covered quite a bit more ground than I think you need to hear. It would be foolish to pretend I think you need a refresher course on the doxies and dragons — yes? I mean, we all assume…”

For all the ways that the Wizarding world was eons ahead of Muggle society — it had been scarcely a decade that same-sex couples were even  _ legal _ in the Muggle UK, and miscegenation was deeply frowned upon, whereas in magical society his relationship with Remus was perfectly acceptable by all but pureblood supremacists like his parents who would seethe to see him marrying a half-blood and would probably keel over and die if they knew he was marrying a half- _ breed _ — they were, in other ways, deeply conservative. James and Lily had followed the normal path for proper young witches and wizards: they’d started their careers and continued dating and saved themselves for marriage. It had been almost unheard of to cohabit before marriage, and for a long time Hope had been the only one of their parents who could even wrap her head around the idea. Sirius did not understand, and doubted he ever would, how anyone could reasonably expect him to sleep in a bed three feet away from the love of his life, the most beautiful boy Sirius had ever set sights on, and not reach out and touch. And how could anyone expect him not to use his inheritance to buy a little love nest for the both of them to continue sharing a bed and a life as they had for so many years?

“You assume correctly.”

“Yes, of course we do.” Fleamont cleared his throat again. “You know how to communicate with a partner in bed, and how to share a home with them, but — and I know I can’t personally compare — getting married is more than that. To take someone’s hand in marriage is to enter a sacred covenant, Sirius. It is a deeper magic than anything they could teach at Hogwarts. Do you know why?”

“Because love is the most powerful force in the universe,” Sirius recited.

“Exactly right. And I just needed to make sure you understand how deep a bond you’re forging. Since you were children it has been you and James through thick and thin — and that doesn’t have to change! I pray it  _ never _ will. But I told James this morning and I’m telling you now, until and unless you have children, your spouse’s needs are your number one priority. My brother is forever my brother but my wife may not always be my wife.” Fleamont spun Sirius’s stool around and crouched down to look him straight in the eye. “Take this to heart, son: Remus should be the most important person in your life. Make sure never to take him for granted. Don’t keep secrets from him. Tell him you love him everyday, through words and through actions. Remember you have chosen to tie your soul to his, and reaffirm that choice in everything you do.”

“I will.”

Fleamont brought a hand up to cup the nape of his neck, squeezing lightly. “You’re a good and honourable man, Sirius. I look forward to seeing the beautiful life you build for yourself.”

James tapped lightly at the open door, leaning against the frame. “Remus and his half of the wedding party are taking the southern staircase so you don’t run into each other until you’re at the altar”

“How’s Moony? My man’s not got the jitters, has he?”

James strode over and perched on top of an empty spot on the dressing table. “Do you remember the first time we saw Remus, when we all got grouped together for the boat ride to Hogwarts? Do you remember the  _ wonder _ in his eyes when the castle came into view? Even in the dark we were sure we saw tears streaming down his face. And you heard him whisper to himself, ‘I can’t believe I’m really here,’ and you decided we were keeping him.”

“As if it were yesterday.”

“He’s got that same look about him today, amplified.”

“Well, then,” Fleamont said. He wrapped a tendril of hair at Sirius’s left temple loosely around his wand and gave it a curl, followed by the strands on the other side. “We’d best not keep him waiting.”

“Something old,” James said, running a hand over Sirius’s shoulder. “Something new, something borrowed,” he continued as he nudged the charm hanging off the hoop earring. “Something blue.” He gestured down at his own blue dinner jacket. “And a sickle in your shoe.” James lifted his foot sideways and dug out a sickle from his instep.

Sirius accepted the coin, ran a  _ scourgify _ over it, and stuck it in his own shoe.

“Ready?”

“Born ready.”

They made their way down, joined at the grass’s edge by Euphemia and Lily. There, they abandoned their shoes (as all their guests had also done, going by the dozens of pairs littered on the stone). James arranged them so Fleamont was at Sirius’s right side, Euphemia at his left, and James and Lily paired up in front of him, before they started walking again.

The altar looked just the same as it had been hours earlier when James and Lily had been wedded there, though the seats had been rearranged to form two aisles that converged halfway down like an upside-down ‘Y.’

Sirius glanced over to the other aisle, but between Fleamont and Lyall, he couldn’t catch a glimpse of Remus.

James and Peter exchanged a series of complex hand gestures, and seemed to have communicated that both halves of the wedding party were ready to proceed, because James lifted his wand and released a single plume of pure white smoke that rose in concentric circles to signal the band.

As the music started, they marched ahead, and Sirius was very glad that they had practiced their timing so thoroughly for James’s wedding march, because every cell in his body was screaming for him to just go faster, to  _ run _ forward to the altar.

At the convergence of the two aisles, the marching order changed. Seamlessly, James parted to escort Emmeline Vance — a fellow Order member and former Ravenclaw prefect who was good friends with Lily and Remus both — followed a beat later by Lily and Peter.

Fleamont and Euphemia unlinked their arms from Sirius’s and nudged him forward. He stepped forward and clasped hands with his Remus.

Sirius had not been wrong earlier that night, when he thought Remus looked especially beautiful in the dusk.

But in that moment, under the loving eyes of the night sky and the pearlescent glow of the crescent moon, dressed to the nines and looking up at him as if he were a long-held dream come true, Remus was something greater than beautiful.

The music carried on around them, their parents hovered behind him, the guest giggled and cooed, but Sirius wouldn’t have moved for anything. He would stay rooted to the spot and gaze down at the love of his life until he had his fill and everyone would simply have to wait patiently.

Or that’s what he would have done if only he didn’t feel the back of his underwear suddenly jerk up in a rather uncomfortable fashion. Sirius whipped his head around to glare at Prongs, who gave him a shit-eating grin entirely free of remorse. He beckoned them to come forward with his hands, and Moony squeezed Padfoot’s fingers in agreement.

Finally, the rest of the wedding party made its way to the altar, and their parents bestowed hugs and kisses on the both of them before taking four seats left empty in the front row.

“Good evening, friends, family, loved ones!” The Priestess greeted, a mild  _ sonorous _ charm applied to her voice. “We are gathered here once more to celebrate the love of Remus and Sirius as they join their two faithful souls in the union of matrimony. Thank you for bearing witness to this ceremony. I must admit, I’m rather nervous! You may be thinking, ‘why, Agape, surely you’ve performed hundreds of weddings by now?’ And yes, I have, but this is my first  _ ever _ encore performance! It’s one thing to repeat an old story when the last wedding you saw me do was three weeks ago, it’s quite another when you heard me pull out that old chestnut this afternoon!”

The audience chuckled, and Agape waited for the laughter to subside before continuing.

“So, tonight, I think we ought to stick with the basics. I will spare you all my repertoire of homilies.” She turned just slightly to face Remus. “Do you, Remus John, take Sirius Orion to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, to love, honour, and cherish, in sickness and health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Remus answered, clear and unwavering.

“Do you, Sirius Orion, take Remus John to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, to love, honour, and cherish, in sickness and health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

“May we now have the rings?”

Peter and James both stepped closer and handed them each a ring before stepping back. Sirius stared down at the band of gold in his hand, a simple thing of smooth, solid gold with neither stone nor engravings. He wondered where they had found the rings, and on whose hands they had once sat. In some distant part of his mind, Padfoot vowed to mark the rings in some way to make them truly his and Moony’s own.

“A ring is an unbroken circle, with ends that have been joined together, and it represents your union. It is a symbol of infinity, and of your infinite love. As often as either of you look upon these rings, may you be reminded of this moment and the love you have promised to one another.

“Remus, please place this ring on Sirius’s finger and repeat the following: Sirius, I give you this ring as a symbol of my pledge to love you today, tomorrow, and always.”

“Sirius, I give you this ring as a symbol of my pledge to love you today, tomorrow, and always,” Remus breathed, and from his lips the words sounded so much sweeter than Sirius had ever heard them, as if physically encompassing Sirius in their warmth. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

“I was getting to that part!” Agape insisted, to further chuckles. “Now, Sirius—”

“Remus, I give you this ring as a symbol of my pledge to love you today, tomorrow, and always. With this ring, I thee wed.”

Agape heaved an exasperated sigh, but immediately broke into a broad smile. “Then I declare you bonded for life!”

Sirius thought maybe Agape had said, ‘you may now kiss’ or something to that effect, but he had not waited for permission. As soon as she made the proclamation that they were bonded, he gathered Remus in his arms for a kiss. Remus came eagerly, allowing himself to be dipped at the waist. Moony’s mouth dropped open just enough to invite Padfoot’s tongue inside for a kiss that was probably more than a little inappropriate for polite audiences, and he tasted like champagne and sweetness and  _ forever _ . When finally they parted, it was to raucous applause, more than a few catcalls, and a shower of silver sparkling stars raining down on them in spirals.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Agape’s voice rang out. “Please stand for the new Messrs. Black!”

Agape spread her arms out at her sides, and the sky lit up above them in a dazzling display of fireworks.

Sirius and Remus were quickly descended on by James, who pulled them both into a group hug so tight it nearly cut off circulation. He was soon joined by Peter, followed by Lily, and then Hope and Euphemia and Lyall and Fleamont and then Sirius couldn’t really see  _ who _ was hugging him anymore. He was slightly smothered in the crowd, but it felt better than breathing.

—

Sirius awoke the next morning alone. He stretched an arm to the opposite side of the bed with every intent to drag Remus back to his chest. He was terribly displeased to find it empty and cold.

With a great heaving grumble, Sirius swung his legs over the edge of the bed and summoned a pair of grey sweatpants that lay draped over their corner chair. He slipped them on and scented the air, catching a whiff of brown sugar and cinnamon that assured him Remus was in the kitchen, making a batch of Howell family scones.

He trotted down the hallway of their little flat, and sure enough, there was Remus, arse in the air as he bent down to pull a tray out of the oven. Sirius waited just long enough for Remus to straighten up, close the door, and place the scones on a cooling rack before sidling up and plastering himself across Moony’s back, arms wrapped tight around his waist.

Remus hummed happily at the sudden invasion of his personal space, tipping his head back to rest on Sirius’s shoulder. He ran a soft palm back and forth over the forearms holding him close. “Good morning, my love, need some hangover potion?”

The wedding revelry had carried on well into the small hours of morning, fuelled by an endless river of champagne and bottle after bottle of butterbeer and gigglewater and elf-made wines, tempered only by canapés and sweet treats. There were more than a few passed out guests littered across the lawns when Sirius and Remus had lumbered back to their little flat at dawn. Though Sirius had managed to access some previously unknown cache of energy to heft Remus up into his arms and carried him over the threshold, it was a struggle even to take off their dress robes. By the time Remus had hung them up on the fancy padded hangers they never used for any of their regular clothes, Sirius had been three quarters asleep.

Sirius mentally catalogued his aches and pains, the light throbbing at his temples, then shook his head. He rubbed his face in the silky hair at the top of Moony’s head, mussing it up even more than it had already been. “What I need is for you to come back to bed. You can’t deny me my newlywed morning cuddles,  _ Mr. Black _ . That’s illegal.”

“It’s one forty-five, husband dearest.”

“Then you need to come back to bed so we can consummate our marriage.”

“You can wait until tonight, you horny old dog,” Remus said. He wiggled his bottom back minutely against Sirius’s crotch, as if his body agreed where his mind did not. “An owl came by with a letter from Dumbledore. He’s dropping in by Floo for a visit in an hour and fifteen minutes.”

“Why?” Padfoot whined.

“Order business is all he said.” Remus turned around in Sirius’s arms and peppered his face with kisses. “Scramble us some eggs while I shower?”

Sirius shifted his head so that a kiss aimed at his cheek landed instead on his lips. “I could set the eggs to scramble themselves while I join you,” he offered, sliding a palm under the hem of Remus’s short shorts to squeeze an arse cheek.

“If you carry on like that we most definitely will not be ready in an hour,” Remus warned, voice low and throaty. “I’d rather not have Professor Dumbledore walk in on us  _ in flagrante delicto _ .”

The mental image of their former headmaster and current leader of their secret society popping his wizened old head through the fireplace so they could exchange security questions, only to be welcomed by the siren song of Moony’s moans carrying over the thunder of the shower, was repulsive enough to make Sirius pull away.

“See you!” Remus called over his shoulder as he walked out of the kitchen, hips swinging with every stride.

Remus returned just as the slices of bread popped out of the modified Muggle toaster and floated to their designated plates, the toast on the grey plate slathering itself in Mrs. Pettigrew’s homemade raspberry jelly while Sirius manually spread butter on the blue plate’s toast. He was fully dressed, in trousers far more substantial than the shorts he favoured around the house and a shortsleeved turtleneck in moss green that Sirius knew he and Lily often traded, despite it fitting entirely differently on the both of them. His hair was dry and combed so pristinely it took every ounce of impulse control Sirius had not to run his fingers through it.

They ate a leisurely breakfast in companionable silence, playing footsie absentmindedly beneath the table. Sirius left for his own shower with a kiss to the knuckles of Moony’s left hand. He gave himself a quick wash, not bothering with shampoo, and threw his damp hair into a low ponytail. He shoved the first clean shirt he found on over his head and put on a pair of jeans. When he returned to the great open space that was their living room/dining room/kitchen, Remus had already finished cleaning up after their meal and was occupied watering his plethora of houseplants both mundane and magical. Sirius checked on their house cat ( _ their _ was subjective, McGoogly came and went as she pleased, and was plump enough that Sirius was convinced she was leading a double life, getting two dinners a day from two families. Unfortunately, Padfoot was too big to follow her when she left by squeezing through the partition between their balcony and the neighbour’s, and she was very secretive) and cleaned out her litter box, scooping her up and chuckling when, as always, she yowled but made no attempt to escape his hold.

“Guess what, McGoogly!” Sirius said. He plunked down on the couch with the cat and set her around to face him. “Your daddies are married!”

McGoogly  _ mrrow _ ’ed at him and kneaded his stomach.

“That’s exactly right!” Sirius cooed. “You’re legitimate now, my little bastard baby!”

Apparently done with his indoor gardening, Remus clambered over the back of the couch to land in the seat beside Sirius. He leaned forward to straighten the stack of magazines on the coffee table, and set the throw pillows to fluff themselves.

“Your Tada’s nervous to have Professor Dumbledore over for our very first houseguest as a married couple,” Sirius continued on in his baby voice. “I bet he’s even gonna feed him the fancy looseleaf tea!”

“Honestly, Sirius, she’s not a  _ baby _ .” Remus groaned. “I’m  _ Tad _ , not Tada!”

Sirius gasped and held his palms loosely over the cat’s ears. “Hold your tongue! She’s always going to be a baby!”

Remus bent down to lock gazes with McGoogly. “Are you still a baby?” He asked very solemnly.

McGoogly lifted a paw, claws retracted, and placed it beneficently on top of Remus’s cheekbone.

“Oh,” Remus gasped. “I guess you really are still a baby.” He sat back up and sank into Padfoot’s side, arms thrown round his chest, cheek rested on his shoulder.

“We should get her a little metal tag for her collar: McGoogly Agnes Black.”

“Okay,” Moony agreed. “I have to go into the Ministry and get the name changed on my Apparition license, we can get a tag the same day.”

“You know, I would have been fine to be Sirius Lupin or Lupin-Black or Black-Lupin or Blupin or whatever,” Padfoot mused. “But Remus Black sounds dead sexy.”

“Not least because your parents will have a conniption when they find out a half-blood bears the name of  _ the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black _ , eh?”

Sirius barked out a laugh. “You know my cousin Andromeda demanded she be the one who gets to write them about it?”

“Where was I when that conversation happened?”

“You were too busy being enthralled by James and your mum and their trumpet-vocal duet.”

“Oh, it was  _ scintillating _ !”

“You think everything is beautiful and brilliant when you’re drunk.”

“It was very good for an impromptu performance,” Remus insisted.

“It was,” Sirius conceded. He dropped a featherlight kiss to the top of Remus’s head. “You know he’s going to bust out that damned trumpet every anniversary from now until forever, right? You don’t like it nearly as much when you’re sober.”

“I just won’t be sober, then.” Remus said nothing for a moment, and then, “But we’ll not be seeing James and Lily long enough for him to play us a song, because we’re not doing double dates for our anniversaries.”

“Aww, how about a joint party the weekend of?”

“ _ Maybe _ . I get to pick the cake flavour.”

“Double chocolate with ganache, it is.”

The fireplace roared with the emerald flames of the Floo network and Remus hopped out of his seat, rounding the coffee table to kneel before the hearth.

“Good afternoon, Professor! What was on your desk the first time I went up to the headmaster's office?”

“Ostensibly, the splinters of the Slytherin House table you and your friends shattered in second year, the first time the Heads of House decided it was up to me to determine your punishment.” Dumbledore answered. “However, I recall the two of us had an unrecorded tete a tete before winter holidays, wherein I checked to see how you had settled into Hogwarts and your new full moon routine. On my desk was the wrapped Christmas present you gave me. Can you tell me what that was?”

“I made you peppermint bark and an admittedly lopsided knitted scarf.”

“It was incredibly thoughtful of you, Mr. Lupin. May I come through?”

“Of course,” Remus agreed, standing and stepping aside. Sirius stood to join his side.

A moment later, Dumbledore stepped out of their fireplace, wand already out to siphon the ash off his mulberry robes. He held out a gift bag and a hand to shake first Remus’s, then Sirius’s. “Congratulations again, you two.”

“Thank you, Professor, you shouldn’t have! Please sit,” Remus said, accepting the gift bag and gesturing at their overstuffed, floral printed wingback chair. “Can I brew us some tea?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

Remus handed the bag off to Sirius and walked over to the stove top.

Sirius peeked down at the gift bag discreetly, trying to ascertain what was hidden beneath the layers of white crepe paper.

“It’s a jigsaw puzzle,” Dumbledore kindly informed him. “I’ve found in my years that there are few things greater than the quiet pleasure of a night at home with your beloved, forgetting the troubles of the world and working on a simple common goal together.”

“This will make a lovely new date night for us, Professor. Thank you again.”

As they took their seats, the teakettle began shouting,  _ “Hey, I’m hot and ready to go! Please take me off the stove! Delicious tea is coming your way! Or just boiling water, whatever you say!”  _ A tray with full tea service and a plate piled high with scones came floating over to the living room, landing neatly on the coffee table, Remus trailing behind it. He sat at the edge of the seat, hand hovering over the pot. “Three creams, two sugars?”

“I find my tea preferences change day to day. Today, I believe, is a two sugars, no cream day.”

Remus nodded in agreement and dropped two cubes in his cup, pouring the tea (from the teapot with the strainer built in, Sirius had been right about the looseleaf) over it and placing a scone on the saucer before handing it over. He then made tea for the both of them and sat back.

“Pardon my sentimentality, Mr. Lupin — or Mr. Black, now — but I cannot help but remark on the contrast between this visit and the first time I called upon your home.” Professor Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled brightly, and his voice carried more emotion than Sirius had ever heard him share freely. “It brings me more joy than you could know to see the scared, lonely boy you were blossom so wonderfully into such a happy, self-assured young man surrounded by love. And your scones are as excellent as ever.”

Remus inhaled sharply, swiped at the corners of his eyes. Instinctually, Sirius rubbed a hand up and down his back. “Thank you, sir… for everything. I would never be here, would never have met Sirius, if it weren’t for your kindness.”

“I do not and have never considered it a kindness to ensure you were provided what every child deserves, Remus,” Dumbledore averred. “And truly, I believe you would have found yourself here even without me.”

“Well, you certainly smoothed the path for me. Please accept that much to be true.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore acquiesced. “Now, this is not purely a social call.”

“It would be rather unconventional to pop in on a honeymooning couple without good cause,” Sirius noted wryly.

“I dare say it is more unconventional still to honeymoon in one’s own home,” Dumbledore parried. “Hopefully we will be able to carve out a weekend for the both of you to away to Bath, if not Paris like the newlywed Potters… Which brings me to my point.

“Remus, when I assigned you to your current task set for the Order, I did so with the exhortation that you could not divulge even the smallest of details to a single soul, even to your lifelong friends.” He turned to Sirius. “Please do not take it as a slight against you, Mr. Black, but complete secrecy was paramount in Remus’s duties.”

“ _ Was _ ?” Sirius asked, head tilted.

“Yes, well-spotted, Mr. Black. While I must implore that Remus continue to keep his prior missions strictly confidential, I feel it would be unforgivably unfair, and frankly unrealistic, to expect him to continue in that role. It would be harmful to your marriage to ask that you keep secrets from one another. We are fighting for a better world, gentlemen, and I cannot imagine the world would be any better off if I drove a wedge between two young hearts intertwined.” Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon spectacles where they sat on his nose. He helped himself to another scone. “Going forward, Miss Vance has been entrusted to your former post. You will, in turn, be charged with training new members. I have no doubt you will apply yourself admirably to the job, considering how successful you were at tutoring your housemates in lower years — That  _ is _ why I gave you the prefect’s badge, after all. We’ll be expecting you on Monday.”

“Of course, Professor. I’ll be at headquarters bright and early.”

“The password will be…” Dumbledore’s gaze meandered around the room, finally fixing on the scone in his hand. “Cinnamon scone, because these really are a wonder.”

“You could take some home, if you’d like,” Remus offered.

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Dumbledore declined.

“Of course you could!” Sirius insisted.

“Yes, all right,” Dumbledore swiftly agreed.

Sirius grabbed a paper napkin from the tea service and transfigured it to a white cardboard box, placing half the remaining scones inside. He tied the box closed with a length of conjured twine and handed it to Dumbledore. “There we are, Professor. Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?”

“No, I’ll take my leave now.” The three men all stood. Dumbledore headed back towards the hearth, Remus and Sirius following behind him hand in hand.

“Thank you again for having me, and I wish you the greatest happiness life may offer.” The professor grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the urn on their mantle and tossed it into the fireplace. “Until next time,” he bade them farewell with a tip of his hat and stepped into the heatless flames.

“Bye, Professor!” Remus waved heartily. “See you soon!”

Professor Dumbledore kept his elbows tucked to his sides but grinned. “Hog’s Head Inn,” he declared, and disappeared with a loud  _ whoosh _ .

“He got us a jigsaw puzzle,” Padfoot let Moony know.

“Oh, fun!”

“Do you wanna start it?”

Remus snorted. “I wanna go back to bed.”

“Okay!” Sirius immediately began leading them into the bedroom.

“You know, I never noticed until it was gone, but it feels like this two-tonne weight has been lifted off my shoulders now that I’ll get to talk freely about my work with you lot” Remus reflected as he took his clothes back off and laid them out over the chair. “It’s been… discomfiting, to keep things from you, to let conversations lapse into uncomfortable silences after you and Prongs have recounted your latest tales of derring-do.”

“You know we’ve never held it against you, right, Moons?” Sirius asked. He hung up his own clothes on the hooks screwed into the door and flopped down supine on the bed, arms held out for Remus.

“I know,” Moony assured, crawling into his embrace. Absentmindedly, he combed his fingers through the hair on Padfoot’s chest. “But a day might have come when you did. I’m glad to be rid of the elephant in the room.”

“I would  _ never _ ,” Sirius avowed. “I’m going to love, honour, and cherish you until my dying day, remember?”

Remus propped himself up on one elbow. His eyes roved Sirius’s face hungrily, as if cataloguing every eyelash, memorizing the exact curve of his cheek, and at last he sank down for a slow, languorous kiss. “It’s a bit mad, isn’t it?” He murmured against Sirius’s lips. “Twenty-four hours ago we were only boyfriends.”

Sirius pressed their foreheads together, gave Remus’s nose a brief nuzzle. “We had a great day,” Sirius whispered.

The hand on his chest drifted to the line of hair down the middle of his abdomen. “We had a  _ perfect _ day,” Remus whispered back, and kissed him again.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2020 Remus/Sirius Fix It Fest, whose theme this year was _Trying New Things._ In addition to the new thing they try in the fic, this was also my first time participating in a fest! Many thanks to Moony and Muse for putting together such a friendly and well-organized affair.
> 
> Please like and reblog [this post](https://goodboylupin.tumblr.com/post/626441941908946944/young-hearts-intertwined-complete) on Tumblr if you enjoyed this story and would like to share it with your friends.


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